


We Were Young

by opkil



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:11:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opkil/pseuds/opkil





	We Were Young

We Were Young

 

Harold was looking through old journals. Journals he wrote when he was far too young to truly understand the meaning behind his own words. They were journals from his teenage years, and they were truly embarrassing.

Yet there was an odd feeling of schadenfreude, he thought to himself. The person he is now knows what would happen as his journal entries unfolded. Yet, it was hilarious to laugh at one’s self.

Amidst all the dust of the attic, and the tears that fell here and there from him. There was a strong dose of nostalgia in the small room with him. He had told his best mate Sam to leave him alone for a week, and Sam had spread that message. It was almost eerie to not hear a message ding on his iPhone from so long, but it was okay. Harold played old indie pop songs about romance and loves and whatever they were about.

Each page he flipped was more cleansing that the next. Until he finally got to the bit where he first met May. That person’s name was May. The pivotal point in almost everything he had now.

Harold couldn’t help but to smile. He read each page voraciously in silence. He turned the music off on his phone, and continued reading reverently.

He jumped from the knock on the attic’s trap door.

“Come in.”

Sam emerged from the opening.

“Bruv, you want some company?”

Harold smiled and gestured to an empty space next to him. Sam carefully opened the trapdoor fully, and came into the attic, and positioned himself next to Harold.

“These are all those journals and diaries you wrote back then?”

Harold nodded simply, as he continued flipping the pages of the one he had in his hands. He was absorbed in his writing, in his own thoughts. Sam sighed to himself, and pat Harold on the back.

“It’s been a year.”

Harold remained silent, as he flipped the pages absentmindedly.

“Not long enough.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find your answer, Harry?”

He shook his head gently.

“Some day.”


End file.
